


I lava you with a scorching passion

by Whitsie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (lbr I Mean Knotting), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Kate Argent Dies, M/M, Murder Husbands, Murder Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poetic Justice, Violently, Wall Sex, Xenophilia, mentions of - Freeform, semi-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 10:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4621671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whitsie/pseuds/Whitsie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek  get it on in a house on fire. And no that is not a typo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I lava you with a scorching passion

**Author's Note:**

> I own no part of Teen Wolf or any of its characters and am not looking to make money from this work in any way.
> 
> Warning: There is a fairly vague reference to a very disturbing murder in this fic. Plus like the sex that is a direct consequence of said murder. So if this is not your thing please don't read on

Stiles is perfect for Derek.

 

Maybe others wouldn't think so, but Derek knows. Stiles would do anything for him, has done _everything_ for him. There is no one who could be better to Derek.

 

"Derek!" Stiles laughs, running down the stairs and leaping into his arms. Derek catches him, as he always has and always will, and turns to press Stiles up against the wall, crushing their mouths together. Their tongues twine together sloppily, both to keyed up to have any finesse.

 

Stiles rips Derek's head away from his own by his hair, pulling far harder than he normally does. "It's done. She's all lit up. We have ten minutes max until someone notices, and maybe twelve until the house falls down around us."

 

Derek can hear the crackling of the flames above him, just starting to spread out of the room they had been lit, and smell the burning flesh, the dirty, charred smell that he had never been able to forget. He smiles wickedly. "We'd best be quick then." With this, he presses their mouths back together and lifts Stiles up higher so he can grind his rigid cock into his arse. Stiles is as hard as he his,rutting against his stomach urgently, running his hands through Derek's hair as he fucks his tongue into Derek's mouth.

 

Derek would happily get off just like this, and has many times before, but the bitch upstairs deserves nothing less than everything she hated happening right in her house. Not that she'll live through the next ten minutes to know about it, but it's the thought that counts.

 

Stiles manoeuvres both his hands down to first undo the button and fly of his own jeans, then reach down to fumble with Derek's belt, managing to unbuckle it, and pull down Derek's fly without detaching their mouths. His hand delves into Derek's boxers, pulling out his cock and stroking it roughly, spreading the precome that is leaking liberally from the head along the shaft, twisting his wrist perfectly despite the awkward angle.

 

Derek is the one to pull their mouths apart this time, but only to duck his head down to Stiles neck, to rub his stubble into the soft skin there, and bite at the mark he left there only last night when Stiles was stretched out on their hotel bed, twisting his arse around his cock as he whispered every detail of what they would do the next day into Derek's ear. He hadn't been able to stop himself from knotting then, to turned on to even consider not doing it, not that either of them had regretted it, but they didn't have time right now. Derek would have to control himself, and remind himself that Stiles would have no issue with him doing it later tonight.

 

He shifts one hand up to hold onto Stiles' thigh, and grabs the waist of his jeans with the other. Stiles clearly recognises what he wants to do and so tightens his legs around Derek's waist and pulls his hips away for a moment, which allows Derek to pull his jeans down to rest just under his arse. Derek grabs on the bare cheeks with both hands, fondling them for a moment before spreading them wide and pressing his fingers inward.

 

He circles around Stiles hole with a finger for a barely minute before recognising what exactly he is feeling. Stiles' hole is wet, wet with lube, and, Derek pushes a finger inwards, stretched as well. The thought of Stiles preparing like this, sneaking into the bathroom this morning to stretch himself open, pushing the four fingers into himself he needed to take Derek's cock, probably using too much lube so he wouldn't dry out, and then coming to wake him up, and get dressed like normal. The thought of him to be feeling that all day, the slight wetness around his rim as the lube leaked out, the anticipation of having his hole filled as he pressed up behind Derek and directed him to each place he should use the cattle-prod. God. Stiles is so perfect.

 

Derek pulls his fingers out, then guides the head of his cock to kiss at Stiles hole, letting Stiles whine desperately and press his hips down for a moment, before slamming in to the hilt in one motion. Derek can feel the heat of the flames now, likely having devoured the top floor, and falling down through the floor as it collapses. The crashes of collapsing furniture, the smoke getting in his eyes and the smell, god the smell, just makes the feeling of Stiles burning hot and tight around him even better. Everything they have worked towards for the last year has led up to now, fucking in Kate Argent's house as she burns to death upstairs, staked to the floor. 

 

Derek sets a harsh pace, snapping his hips up to Stiles arse while keeping him pinned to the wall. Neither of them are talking, or really making any sounds, Derek only grunting into Stiles neck, and Stiles having his breath punched out of him by each one of Derek's strokes. Stiles is wrapped tight around him, his legs being held up by Derek and his arms over his shoulders and clawing at his back. Derek reaches a hand down to fist Stiles' cock, matching the rhythm to his thrusts. Stiles' never leaks much before coming, but Derek knows he likes the burn, likes to hurt and likes that it’s the touch of pain that always pushes him over the edge.

 

They were both too turned on to last long, but it still comes as a surprise to them both when Derek is the first to come, pressing up into the hot clench of Stiles' arse, letting out spurt after spurt of come, more than a normal man, but nowhere near as much as when he knots.

 

Derek barely lets himself get over the aftershocks before dropping Stiles' legs to the ground and propping him against the wall before kneeling down in front of him.

 

Stiles keens as Derek sucks his cock into his mouth, wanting to come, but not quite there yet. Derek would normally tease his boy, bringing him to the edge over and over again, but if they don't want to get trapped here, or caught, they need to hurry, so Derek pushes three fingers into Stiles' still wet hole and rubs over his prostate firmly, knowing from experience this is the best way to get him to come.

 

Only two harsh sucks later, Stiles shudders through his orgasm and then, once Derek has removed his fingers, slides down to the ground as well, straddling Derek's lap. Derek gives him only a minute to recover, before nudging him to kneel up so Derek can pull up his pants. As Stiles stands up, Derek does up his fly and buckles his belt. Stiles rummages through the duffle bag they had left at the bottom of the stairs, and pulls out a small bottle of lighter fluid that the splashes on the wallpaper he had been pressed against. He then pulls out a pack of wet wipes, pulling a few out for himself before passing it to Derek.

 

"C'mon D, wipe your face to get rid of the smoke, and the fingers that were just up my arse. We gotta go." Derek picks up the duffle bag before following Stiles through the kitchen, where he has thrown the lighter fluid at the wall next to the stove, and turned all the gas knobs open, and out the back door into the garden. The sun is just setting, leaving it light enough that no one would be aware of the fire until it was really going, but dark enough that they aren't noticed as they jump fences until they come out on the street.

 

They walk along slowly, as so to not draw attention to themselves, and Derek reaches out to grab Stiles' hand. They come up to the main road, and duck into an alleyway, Stiles pulling out a pack of cigarettes as they do so.

 

Once the cigarettes are lit they just let them burn, only pretending to smoke, while they press their sides close together.

 

"I love you." Derek whispers into Stiles ear.

 

"I love you, too D." Stiles whispers back.

 

"No, Stiles. I really love you so, so much. Thank you." He doesn't know how to put into words how grateful he is for what Stiles has done for him, not just today, but almost ever since they met. Thankfully Stiles seems to understand if the wide smile and quick kiss he gives Derek are anything to go by.

 

"Yeah, Derek. I know."

 

Stiles is perfect for Derek because as they hear the whine of the firetrucks he just turns to press their hips together and bites his earlobe before speaking. "I found where Peter is. How do you feel about Vegas?"

 

**Author's Note:**

> Um yeah. Wow. No regrets man, but that was kinda intense. Eh. I started out with just the description and went from there, I like to think it turned out okay.
> 
> Lemme know what you think. If the response to this is good, then I'll write a sequel with Peter and actual knotting not just mentions of it.
> 
> Also I'm looking for a porn beta, cos I've just forayed into it recently, and it'd be nice to have some one to check that what i was writing was actually good, so yeah, comment if you wanna do that.
> 
> xx
> 
> Whitsie


End file.
